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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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- Пятьдесят оттенков серого
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- Стр. 263/797
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“
I
felt
that
your
e
-
mail
warranted
a
reply
in
person
,
”
he
explains
dryly
.
I
open
my
mouth
and
then
close
it
again
,
twice
.
The
joke
is
on
me
.
Never
in
this
or
any
alternative
universe
did
I
expect
him
to
drop
everything
and
turn
up
here
.
“
May
I
sit
?
”
he
asks
,
his
eyes
now
dancing
with
humor
—
thank
heavens
—
maybe
he
’
ll
see
the
funny
side
?
I
nod
.
The
power
of
speech
remains
elusive
.
Christian
Grey
is
sitting
on
my
bed
.
“
I
wondered
what
your
bedroom
would
look
like
,
”
he
says
.
I
glance
around
it
,
plotting
an
escape
route
.
No
—
there
’
s
still
only
the
door
or
window
.
My
room
is
functional
but
cozy
—
sparse
white
wicker
furniture
and
a
white
iron
double
bed
with
a
patchwork
quilt
,
made
by
my
mother
when
she
was
in
her
folksy
Americana
quilting
phase
.
It
’
s
all
pale
blue
and
cream
.
“
It
’
s
very
serene
and
peaceful
in
here
,
”
he
murmurs
.
Not
at
the
moment
…
not
with
you
here
.
Finally
,
my
medulla
oblongata
recalls
its
purpose
.
I
breathe
.
“
How
…
?
”
He
smiles
at
me
.
“
I
’
m
still
at
the
Heathman
.
”
